Thursday, 14 May 2009

  • Three Accounts of Squirms

    Brandon, do you remember
    when me, Brittany, and Meg fell asleep in your dorm room
    and your hands found their way up, up my shirt?
    I do. I remember it very well, because it was so strange,
    your poor pretty girlfriend was just a state or two away
    and we'd said nothing about touching before, or after
    when you reconsidered and drew away, your hard-on pressed against me.


    I'm not angry.  In a way, I actually feel sorry.
    I see you on campus sometimes. You try and keep cool,
    but I always see something squirming in your eyes.


    Danny, do you remember
    when you fell asleep next to my nearly unconscious body
    and your hand found its way down, down into my jeans?
    I do.  I remember it very well, because it was so strange
    that I was so drunk I'd flushed my phone down the toilet
    and the last thing I remember is falling asleep alone,
    and I promptly removed your hand when I discovered it there in the morning.


    It made me a little angry.  In a way, I actually feel sorry.
    I told everyone how weird I thought you were, even though
    I know you're just lonely and never get laid.


    John, do you remember
    when you fell asleep between me and Thea
    and your hands found their way up, up my shirt? and down my jeans?
    I do.  I remember it very well, because it was so strange,
    that your girlfriend was laying on the other side of you,
    that I couldn't bring myself to move, or to tell her when we woke up,
    that she apologized for you a few days later.


    It made me angry. In a way, I actually feel sorry.
    She said I was a good friend.  I don't know what you told her
    about that night, but I always imagine her squirming on the other side.



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